


"He's alive?"

by JadeyKins



Series: Misery Needs Company [2]
Category: Supernatural, Torchwood
Genre: Blood, M/M, Violence, internals on the outside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:03:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeyKins/pseuds/JadeyKins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After reconnecting, Dean insists on following Jack on a hunt. He and Sam discover something about Dean's newly rediscovered crush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"He's alive?"

**Author's Note:**

> I took a few liberties with Jack's healing ability--making it a bit more like we'd probably see on Supernatural.

Sam had headed halfway across the parking lot with Charlie before he realized that Dean and Jack weren’t right behind them. He folded his arms over his chest and his brows knitted together. The other two men were having some kind of conversation that involved a few smiles.

“Is there a problem?” Charlie asked.

“No,” Sam replied too quickly. When Charlie rolled her eyes, Sam admitted, “Something seem off about Jack to you?”

“Well, he was a little sad. Okay, maybe a lot sad,” Charlie remarked. 

“Not that. He kept checking his phone. I think he’s on a case.”

Charlie glanced back at the men and then met Sam’s gaze again. “Really? He didn’t mention anything and I haven’t heard about anything else happening in the area.”

“Anything supernatural,” Sam pointed out. “He could be hunting aliens.”

“He’d leave us out of an alien hunt?” Charlie asked too loudly. “After we bought him like a night’s worth of booze and he wants to make out with your brother? Dick move.”

Sam didn’t say anything, but he kept a pensive stare going at the other men until he realized Dean was heading their way. Then he swiftly turned his gaze to Charlie. 

At the Impala, Sam and Dean said their goodbyes. Charlie had a taxi waiting for her and she ran to catch it after the hugs.

The Impala doors made familiar thunk noises as the Winchester boys shut them. Sam slumped in the seat as much as his height would allow. Dean had had maybe three beers over the course of four or five hours. Whatever Purgatory had done to him, it’d killed the budding alcoholic side of Dean’s behavior. Even with weeks gone by, Sam wasn’t sure if that fact made him happy or uneasy—but at least Dean could be the sober driver tonight.

Dean put the Impala into gear. The silence between them was one of those heavy who’s-going-to-break-it-first ones. As usual, Dean did, by demanding, “Okay. Let’s hear those questions.”

Sam frowned as Dean made a turn. He looked down the street and concentrated on what he knew of the area. “All right. First one: where the hell are we going?”

“Jack was holding out on us. He’s definitely on a hunt,” Dean said. “I got him to admit to it at the bar door, but he wouldn’t tell me anything else.”

“So we’re following him?” Sam asked. “Is that wise?”

“Just going to see if he needs a little back up after all.”

“But. Aliens, Dean. We aren’t equipped to fight aliens.”

“Sure we are,” Dean said, flexing his hand on the steering wheel. “Salt, guns, matches. That shit’s got to work against them too, right?”

Sam stared at Dean. Sometimes he wondered if Dean ever thought of all the possibilities in circumstances like this. From the top of his head, Sam could list out fifty different ways that aliens could counter everything they had in the car based off of ideas he’d read about upcoming technologies. And honestly, the only thing salt would help fend off besides demons were slugs. “No. None of that does.”

“Did against the last one,” Dean muttered.

“And speaking of that last one,” Sam picked up, “when were you going to tell me you were into guys?”

Dean kept his eyes on the road. He usually did, but when he was searching for an answer, his face became this blank mask. “I wasn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t important, okay?” Dean snapped. He let out a deep sigh and added, “Guys aren’t really a thing for me. I’ve never been with one unless there was a girl around, except Jack. And him I haven’t exactly been with.”

“Would you?” Sam asked. He couldn’t help the small angry in the back of his voice. Recently Dean had just made a huge deal out of living the hunter’s life. About how Sam had to make a choice. And Sam had. He’d given up on the hope of Amelia. Now Dean could go running off into the sunset with some guy he’d never even mentioned before. Ticked Sam off more than a little thinking about it.

“No,” Dean said too quickly. “Maybe. I don’t know. Look, Jack has this… way about him. It’s confusing as hell to explain.”

“Well try,” Sam said. Yeah, that was his bitch tone and one of his ‘bitch face’ looks. He liked to consider it his ‘I see through your fucking bullshit, loser’ look.

Dean paused again. Sam thought he’d ignored him, but finally Dean spoke. “I left a part out earlier,” he said quietly. “After I ganked the succubus, I demanded an honest kiss out of Jack. One that wasn’t affected by whatever the hell had been in our systems. At first Jack tried to tell me I was too young, but I guess I was persuasive enough.”

“He’d been making out with you half the night and suddenly you were too young?”

“I’m telling you, he looked the same age he is now,” Dean argued. “Thirty something.”

“So what? Why not mention it?” Sam probed.

“Because it was the first time I really felt something,” Dean replied.

“What? Like love?”

Dean readjusted in his seat and straightened his arm out. “Yeah, okay. Love.” He repeated, “It was the first time it felt like love was involved in a kiss.”

Silence returned to the Impala. Sam folded his arms and then unfolded them. Love was a strange and powerful force in the world. From everything he’d seen, Sam knew that the emotion held sway with people. More than once, Dean had even shown his love—not just for Dad or Sam, but for Lisa and Ben, in a quiet way for Cas, in a weird ass way for Benny. Hell, even Charlie fell under category of liked and loved by his brother. Probably Kevin and even Garth for his strangeness. And of course Dean had loved Bobby, Ellen, Jo and Mom. A couple of girls along the way maybe. All of those, and probably more, had a love for Dean. 

But they were all people who’d been around Dean, especially the ones who had the romantic kind of love.

“Dean, you only saw each other one night,” Sam pointed out. “And you were drugged out of your mind.”

“This is why I didn’t bring it up,” Dean said with an edge of tension to his voice. “You don’t know what it was like for me at nineteen. You don’t have a friggin’ clue. So don’t start judging what I remember feeling.”

Streetlights allowed Sam to see his brother’s face better. All those years traveling together, living together, meant that Sam could read his brother’s mind in his body language. When he was pissed, he’d use the opportunity to piss Dean off further by pushing his buttons. Lately, though, their relationship had cracks bigger than the Grand Canyon. Tonight, after such a good day, wouldn’t be a good time to pick Dean apart.

“Do you love him?” Sam asked.

“Aw man, don’t get sappy on me.”

“Come on, it’s a legitimate question. Especially since we’re stalking him when he didn’t want us involved.”

Dean sighed loudly again. “I don’t know, okay? I did when I was a kid, but that doesn’t mean I do now.”

Sam stared out onto the road and then back at Dean. “We’re following him.”

“Because it’s a hunt. Not because I’m hoping this’ll all turn out to be some weird chick flick confessional.”

“Of course not. You’re hoping for a zombie movie.”

“Dude, zombie movies are cool,” Dean said with a hint of enthusiasm. “And come on, if aliens can’t make zombies, who could?”

*** 

An hour later, Jack emerged from the coroner’s office with a file tucked under his arm. He hurried down the steps of the building with his coat flapping around his legs slightly. So far tonight had been a strange one. Jack had gone to the bar hoping to catch a glimpse of the alien he’d been tracking through three states. Instead, he’d run into Dean Winchester. The kind of life Dean led didn’t have a long life expectancy. Jack had been pleasantly surprised that the teen had grown up.

And holy shit, Jack had thought Dean had been attractive when he was nineteen. Fully grown up adult Dean was somehow even hotter. 

The beer and conversation had been a nice change from the relentless pursuit. However, the fun time had come to an end, and Jack had gotten a text from the local coroner that a case matching Jack’s criteria had come in. So Jack had driven out here in the middle of the night and gotten the information. 

Now he descended the steps of the office to the parking lot and noticed the Impala sitting next to his own car. As Jack slowed his approach, Sam and Dean emerged from the black vehicle. “I thought I told you I had a handle on this,” Jack teased with an annoyed edge to his voice.

Dean shrugged. “Sounded more like you could use the manpower.”

The smirk on Jack’s lips didn’t shift, but the spark of amusement left his eyes. People were always doing this. Always following his lead as if he knew what the fuck he was doing, as if he could in fact save the world from anything. And too many times, Jack had seen that loyalty and courage result in the deaths of people he cared about.

Easier to work alone.

Sam was staring too hard at him, Jack thought. The taller Winchester leaned on the top of the Impala.

Jack shook his head and motioned at the file. “I’ve got this. I’ll be fine.”

“We can help,” Sam offered.

“Really, no thanks. I’m sure you’re capable hunters, but I can manage this on my own,” Jack insisted.

Dean leaned over, as if he was peeking into the tinted windows of Jack’s car. His observations came quick—he must have taken time earlier to scope out the vehicle. “Dude, you’ve got a pile of case files,” Dean commented. “And I don’t even want to talk about what’s going on in that back seat. Whatever this thing is, I’m going to wager a guess and say you’re having a hell of a time finding it.”

“I don’t need any help, okay?” Jack snapped. “I’ll get this thing.”

“And how many more people are going to die before you do?” Dean demanded.

Angry and righteous Dean was still unreasonably hot. Jack glared at the other man—realizing in this moment that Dean had gotten to be the same height he was—and wondered whose will would break first. Maybe he should have just slipped the whole party RetCon after all. Better to have enjoyed the nostalgia and had them forget he was around.

“At least let us help you narrow down the location,” Sam offered. “We’ve been here a couple more days than you have. We know the area better.”

“Fine,” Jack relented. “Fine.”

“We’ve got a room. You gonna follow us there?” Dean asked.

“Yeah.”

Dean pointed his finger and warned, “Try to give us the slip and I’ll chase you down. Pretty sure Baby here can make dust out of your car.”

“Here,” Jack held the folder out to Dean. “Leverage.”

Dean took the folder with his chin raised, handed it to Sam, and then got into the car. He didn’t break eye contact with Jack until Jack climbed into his own car. 

Damn, Dean had grown up well.  
\---- 

Dean tossed Jack’s pile of research onto the table beside Sam’s laptop. True to his word, Jack had followed them to the motel. While Sam had gone inside with the newest ME report, Dean had helped Jack grab the rest of the files. “Dude,” Dean said to Jack as the door shut behind him, “how long have you been hunting this thing?”

“Too long,” Jack answered. He set a briefcase on the other table chair and drew out his own laptop.

Honestly, Jack hadn’t aged in fifteen years. The only noticeable difference was the bags under Jack’s eyes. In the brighter light of the motel room, Dean saw more details. Jack’s shirt had a well-worn look to it and he had a small stain on the knee of one pant leg. He didn’t seem to even notice or care about his clothes’ appearance except for the coat. With a reverent attention, Jack hung the coat. His fingers even drifted across the fabric before he left it. A small, subtle movement that Dean only caught because he was trying to figure out how a man who’d seemed closer to Dad’s age appeared closer to his own now.

Sam had already devoted his attention to his laptop screen. His brow furrowed at the pile Dean had left next to him. “This thing has that high of a body count and no one’s picked up on it yet?” Sam asked.

“Not all of those are relative,” Jack said. “Working on a few things.”

“Want to point us at the ones that are?” Dean rifled through the stack until Jack grabbed it and pulled it across the table. 

Jack tossed the needed files onto the table closer to Dean.

“Got a name for it?” Sam was in full research swing. 

“Yukashki.”

Sam stared blankly at Jack. “A what?”

“Yukashki. Native of the planet Yukash,” Jack replied as if that answered everything.

Dean took the files and headed over to one of the beds since the table was full up. He lounged while flipping through the autopsies. “It eats guts,” Dean remarked for Sam’s benefits.

“More than that when it has the chance,” Jack acknowledged.

“Look, a search engine isn’t turning up anything about ‘Yukashki,’” Sam said with a note of annoyance.

Jack shoved his laptop aside and grabbed Sam’s. “You’re in the wrong place.” His hands deftly worked the keyboard. Suddenly he paused and glanced up at Sam. “How attached are you to this thing?”

“Why?” Sam asked warily.

“Well, if I trip something, you might have to throw it out.”

“What would you trip?” Sam demanded.

“Couple of UNIT firewalls. Occasionally one of their techies gets inventive with their defenses.”

“And UNIT would be what?” Sam continued.

“Unified Intelligence Taskforce, used to be the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. Works on planetary threats,” Dean said from the bed. He could feel both men’s gazes on him—Sam in confused wonder and Jack in mild pleasant surprise. Pink tinged his cheeks slightly and he explained, “Too much free time with Frank last year. He couldn’t shut up about them. He kept expecting to see Leviathans showing up on their radar.”

“They did,” Jack said, “but by the time UNIT was getting to understand what a Leviathan was, they disappeared.”

This time Dean didn’t look up from the papers as he commented, “You’re welcome.”

“You?” Jack asked. “What did you do?”

“Sent the bastards back to Purgatory where they came from,” Dean replied.

“They came out of Purgatory?” Jack demanded. “Anything else get loose?”

“No,” Sam said quickly. “Just the Leviathans.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I was there when it was opened.” Dean shut the file he’d been looking through and tossed it off to the side.

Jack’s voice raised. “You opened a door to Purgatory?” he barked. “How stupid are you?”

Dean glared at Jack.

Before he could say anything, Sam stepped in. “We didn’t open the door. In fact, Dean tried everything he could to stop it.”

“And where were you while we were taking care of the mess, if you’re so damn concerned?” Dean snapped.

“Scrambling to keep Biggerson’s from opening in Europe,” Jack replied hotly. “Their food was tainted.”

“Yeah, we know that too,” Dean said.

“Guys,” Sam said. “Can we bring the testosterone back down a few notches? Everyone did what they could about the Leviathans.”

“Screw that. We had those things hunting us. Making us live out of abandoned shit holes trying to stay off the radar and one step ahead of them. We lost Bobby and we put our lives on the line to send Dick back. I’d say we did more than ‘could’ about the fucking assholes,” Dean growled. “Yeah, okay, we failed to stop them from coming out of Purgatory, but we fucking put them back where they belonged.”

Jack leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. Sadness flickered across his features and he looked away from Dean’s eyes. He turned back towards the computer and typed again.

Dean rose from the bed and slammed Sam’s laptop shut, almost getting Jack’s hands. “You got something to say?”

Sam was doing his best not to squirm in his seat—Dean could see that in his peripheral. 

After a shuddery breath, Jack said, “I’m sorry.” He met Dean’s eyes again. 

Something about the look in Jack’s eyes made Dean’s stomach queasy, made him remember that night so long ago. Swiftly, he turned away and went back to the files on the bed. “Whatever.”

Sam cleared his throat. “So, the Yukashki.”

\---

For about three hours, they worked in a stony research silence mode. No one spoke unless they had noticed some new clue. Sam eventually fell into a comfortable pace. Dean teased him from time to time, but Sam liked research. There was something nice about reading and finding answers. In a weird way, he always bonded with whoever had written the accounts he discovered. Research proved that they weren’t alone in their lifestyle. Other people had encountered the same deadly forces of the universe, and guess what, they’d lived. A little spark of hope would flit through Sam’s mind. If someone else had survived, so he could Dean and himself.

The Yukashki had a thing for eating grown men and alcohol. By that hour all the bars had shut down, and considering the metabolism of the creature, the alien had to be devouring some unlucky sap. The question was, where would it hide out to eat? They tossed a few ideas back and forth, but it was Dean who pointed out that the body dumps weren’t random. A UNIT investigator had noted in a past case that the Yukashki preferred subterranean areas and to nest.

“So Jack’s been hunting it, causing it to keep running,” Sam said.

“That tracks,” Jack said.

Dean leaned over Sam and stared down at the computer screen. “The bodies were all dumped a few blocks from the building in the other case. Did you find any of it’s other hiding spots?”

“A couple. House of someone who was on vacation. Last one was an abandoned school building.”

“So look for somewhere big,” Dean said. “Big and empty.”

Sam, long accustomed to Dean’s over-the-shoulder approach to using a search engine, used the UNIT servers to find the information they needed. Sure, he could have tried news stories and such, but the UNIT files were more extensive. What would have taken a day only took a few minutes.

“Abandoned church in the area of both murders in town,” Sam remarked.

“That’s gotta be it.”

Jack rose and started cleaning up the files. “Sounds good. Thanks for the help.”

“You seriously going after this thing on your own?” Dean demanded.

“That was the deal.”

Dean didn’t say anything else. He took a seat on the bed and watched Jack pack.

Sam couldn’t stay quiet. “Are you sure? We could help.”

“I’ve got it from here,” Jack said. “You’ve helped enough.”

“Jack--” Sam began.

“Let him go,” Dean said. “He knows how he wants to handle this.”

Ever since the fight about Leviathans, the air between Jack and Dean had gotten cold. Sam was sad to see it change. For a while there, Dean had been pretty content. Now that had been blown apart again. Hadn’t even lasted a whole night.

“Log out of UNIT,” Jack warned Sam. “If they catch you in there, they’ll lock you in some concrete cell and I’ve used up all my favors.”

“Right,” Sam said. He had already started closing all of Jack’s hacking programs.

Once Jack had everything, he headed for the door. He hesitated and turned towards Dean. “It was good. Seeing you again.”

“Likewise.”

Then Jack left, coat swooping out behind him.

Jack had been gone three seconds, Sam had barely opened his mouth to say something, and Dean was already off the bed, grabbing his coat. “He pull out yet?” Dean asked with a slight edge of heat.

“Dean, we said we wouldn’t,” Sam reminded him.

“Fuck that. He’s going to face something that eats people. Since when do we let people walk into some place stupid without back up?”

Sam rose from his chair and glanced out the window. “He’s gone. I’ve got the address memorized.”

Dean threw open the motel room door. “Good.”

\--- 

The trunk of the Impala rose with the familiar creak and Dean shoved the false bottom up. He chose out his favorite shotgun from the mess, handed another one to Sammy—when they were hunting his little brother was ‘Sammy’ in his mind—and grabbed out a knife too. He already had a handgun tucked into the back of his waistband and Sam had the demon knife in his coat pocket.

After giving Sammy a ‘we ready?’ look and getting a nod in return, Dean shut the trunk up. He pumped a round into the shotgun’s chamber and strode towards the church doors. Jack had shut them after, but he hadn’t locked them, so Dean and Sam slipped in without too much noise.

Crashing noises, snarling, and breaking wood noises came up from the basement. Dean went down the stairs first. Light splayed across the floor. A few bulbs lit the staircase. The sounds of a fight masked the creak of their footsteps. They made it to the concrete floor below as other noises took over the end of the fight. 

Three humanoid figures were bent over two fallen forms. When they smelled the brothers on the air, they turned their faces towards them. One of the three hissed.

Dean didn’t wait. He surged forward and unleashed the shotgun’s rounds. Caught off guard, the Yukashki didn’t have much of a chance to fight Sam and Dean. Shotguns made quick work of them. “See,” Dean said to Sam with justification as he kicked one corpse over. “Guns work.”

Sam was distracted. He nodded at one of the fallen forms the Yukashki had been hovering over. “Dean,” he said quietly.

Dean didn’t like that tone in Sam’s voice. That was his ‘I’m sorry.’ That ‘something bad’s happened and there’s nothing I can do but tell you.’

Then Dean saw for himself. Jack lay on the floor. “No,” he managed. He sunk down to the floor beside the other man. There wasn’t anything that could be done. Jack’s throat had been cut and Dean could see half his entrails. A tear rolled down his cheek. “Damn it,” he hissed under his breath. “You stupid bastard.” He reached up and closed Jack’s eyes.

Suddenly, Jack grabbed Dean’s arm and gasped.

\--- 

Sweet oblivion evolved into sharp pain. His lungs couldn’t get any air because his throat hadn’t healed completely and the first two gasping draws of air resulted in nothing. Blinding pain kept him from the outside world. Jack knew he had a grip on something, something trying to get away from him, but Jack could only hold on tighter as he struggled to breathe.

Then his throat closed and air rushed through finally.

“He’s alive?” someone shouted. Sam. Sam, he remembered Sam now. “We need to call nine-one-one.”

“No,” Jack groaned. He could see again and he stared into the most beautiful green eyes he’d ever beheld. Familiar somehow. Right, he knew the man they belonged to.

“Jack, you’re hurt,” Sam argued.

“He’s right,” the one with the pretty green eyes said. His eyes moved away from Jack’s and then back. “We don’t need to call one.”

“Dean--”

“Sam,” Dean snapped. “Look at his stomach.”

A moment passed and Jack clenched his hand and arched his back. This part always hurt. His body was healing. Rapidly, but naturally too. Dean’s hand had found his own and clutched back at him. 

“Holy shit,” Sam whispered. “He’s--Dean, holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Dean said quietly.

“The bodies. Should burn them,” Jack groaned.

“I’ll start on the pyre,” Sam said.

Dean nodded.

The stairs groaned under Sam’s weight.

Alone with Dean, Jack screwed his eyes shut and tried to breath through the pain. His body shuddered. Dean’s hand helped ground him. “Damn it,” Jack managed.

“You’re not healing fast enough,” Dean said. “You’re going to bleed out.”

“’Fraid so.” Jack laughed manically.

“I’m here,” Dean told him. “I’ll be here.”

Jack wanted to tell him to go away. Let him die on the concrete. Maybe this time he’d stay dead. He’d lost speech and he felt his body slipping back over the precipice again.

When he came back around for the second time, the pain in his stomach was less and he felt a hand over the remaining wound. Jack’s gaze was wild, eyes rolling as they refused to focus until they saw those green eyes still sparkling at him.

“Tried to get ‘em back in this time,” Dean remarked calmly. 

Too calmly. The jaded kind of calm. Jack would’ve reached up and stroked Dean’s cheek if he could get his hand to move on his command. “Thanks,” he groaned instead. “How long?”

“Took you five minutes that time.”

“Damage caught up to me,” Jack said. “Where’s Sam?”

“Taking his time collecting wood. Said something about dragging old pews outside.”

“You’re not freaking out,” Jack panted.

Dean chuckled dryly and smirked. A kind smirk. “Well, you are not the weirdest thing I’ve seen in the last year.”

Jack laughed about that too. “And here I thought we had something special.” He bit back another moan.

“You think I’d hold just any guy’s guts in?” Dean joked. “Well maybe I would, but I’m getting far better results with you than the last guy.”

“I told you not to follow me.”

“Yeah, well, lucky for you I don’t listen,” Dean replied.

Jack threw back his head and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. 

“Hey,” Dean said. When Jack didn’t look at him, Dean squeezed his hand. “Hey! You slipping again?”

“No,” Jack panted. “Fuck. Fuck it hurts.”

“Just you and me. Do what you gotta do. Scream, cry, swear. Whatever.”

Jack resisted the urge to cry. Fought back the desire to scream. “It’s getting better,” he said after another minute. “Won’t be long.”

“Good. Maybe you can explain what’s happening then. How are you alive?”

Sam’s footfall on the stairs was louder this time. Or maybe Jack’s senses had improved.

“Later,” Jack promised. “After.”

Dean nodded. He slid his hand away from Jack’s wound and still looked shocked. “Wow.”

“My amazing talent,” Jack replied. “Should be able to stand now.”

With Dean’s help, Jack stood again. Sam stopped and stared at Jack’s torso before stammering that he had a pretty good pile of wood going. If he’d been in proper form, Jack wouldn’t have passed up the opportunity to tease him, but his guts were still sorting themselves out. 

They made short work of burning the bodies. Once upon a time, Jack would have collected them for Torchwood, but Torchwood was gone. UNIT would have only been angry about Jack interfering with alien affairs yet again. So, that left them with the option to destroy the evidence. The smell was horrid, worse than anything Jack had dealt with in a while, but Sam and Dean continued about business without a complaint.

After the bodies were burned, Dean approached Jack. “Let’s get you a shower.”

Normally, this would be Jack’s opportunity to run. This time, he’d promised answers. Considering that Dean had saved him a lot of pain—being eaten wasn’t a particularly pleasant death to come back from—Jack could stand to stick around at least the rest of the night.

“Lead the way,” Jack said.

\--- 

“Dean, we have a problem,” Sam said quietly. The sounds of the shower still came from the bathroom.

Dean had Jack’s greatcoat across his lap. When the other man had stripped it off, exhaustion had taken over his expression. Sadness, too. Something about this coat was special and Jack’s blood all over it had distressed him. So Dean had taken it from him and looked it over. Promised it wasn’t that bad and he’d get the blood out. Growing up as a hunter, Dean had had plenty of practice get blood and worse out of clothes.

Sighing, Dean looked up from the coat. “He’s not a monster.”

“We don’t know what he is.”

“He’s a hunter,” Dean replied. “All that matters.”

Sam huffed. “Seriously?”

“So far as I can tell, he’s just a man.”

“A man who can’t die.”

“He promised me answers.” Dean went back to work on the coat. “I think we can trust him.”

Sam clenched his jaw. Didn’t say what both brothers knew he was thinking. Dean had started trusting a vampire lately and Sam still couldn’t get over it. Honestly, Sam probably had the right idea. Dean couldn’t be there for Benny. He’d ditched him for the sake of his brother. Of course he hadn’t told Sam about that last phone call, but that didn’t matter. It was him and Sammy, like it always should be. As interesting as Jack was, if he was a threat, they’d have to take him down. But Dean was hoping that he wasn’t.

The shower snapped off and Sam went back to glaring at his computer screen instead. A few minutes later, Jack came out in a borrowed set of Dean’s clothes—black t-shirt and jeans. He took in a sharp breath at seeing his coat across Dean’s lap. “Any luck?”

“Plenty,” Dean replied. “Give me ‘bout half an hour and I should have it all out.”

“Thanks.” Jack smiled at him and Dean flushed as he dropped his attention back to the coat.

Sam turned from his computer and leaned back in his seat. “So we’re going to ignore the elephant in the room,” he said. When no one else spoke, Sam demanded, “What are you Jack?”

Jack cleared his throat in a quiet move. Dean watched him slide his emotional armor back into place. “I’m human.”

“Humans can’t survive that,” Dean said. “Not without help.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jack paused. Then he took a deep breath and said, “I guess you’d think I was cursed, except there’s no way to remove it. See, a long while ago, I died. A friend of mine had absorbed the power of the time vortex and she used it to bring me back. ‘Cept I can’t seem to leave now. Not for good. Not ever.”

“You’re immortal,” Sam summarized.

“Basically,” Jack agreed.

Dean set Jack’s coat off to the side. He stole Jack’s gaze and said, “So, you lied. Earlier. When I said you looked the same age?”

“Yeah,” Jack confessed. “Happens from time to time. Gotta say, you grew up well.”

Dean smirked. If they had been alone, he might’ve stood up at that remark and followed it up with a flirtation himself. Flirting with a guy in front of Sammy though? Right after their fight over Amelia? He wasn’t quite ready for that. Oh hell. Jack had started undressing him with his eyes. Dean went back to work on the coat before he started making a fool of himself.

“How old are you?” Sam asked.

“Somewhere north of two thousand, technically,” Jack said. “Though when I met Dean, I was closer to two hundred.” He chuckled at their confused expressions. “Time travel. And really, for about eighteen hundred years of it, I wasn’t conscious.”

“How does something like that happen?” Dean wondered.

“I was buried. I swear I still haven’t gotten all the dirt out sometimes.”

“Who’d you have to piss off for something like that to happen?” Dean teased.

The question made Jack go still and Dean regretted trying to joke about it. Any potential merriment died a quick silent death. “My brother,” Jack said quietly.

Dean reached for a joke anyway. He turned to Sam and said, “See? I could be worse.”

A ghost of a sad smile teased Jack’s lips, but Sam gave him the bitch-face equivalent of ‘Really Dean?’ After which, Sam turned his attention back to Jack. “Is your brother like you too?”

“No. He’s gone.”

“Sorry,” Dean offered.

Jack shrugged. “I lost him a long time ago.” Jack checked his watch. “You two must be getting tired.”

“Naw, we’re fine,” Dean said. 

“Speak for yourself, I’m wiped,” Sam said.

Dean looked over Jack. “You gonna stay with us?”

“No need. I don’t really sleep. Another side effect of my condition,” Jack replied.

“I’m still not done with this,” Dean told him as he motioned at the coat. “We’ll step outside, let you get some sleep, Sammy.”

“Are you sure? I can hold off for a while,” Sam said.

“Unlike me you need your beauty sleep,” Dean teased with a big smile.

Sam might’ve uttered jerk, but Dean ignored him as he grabbed what he’d need for the coat. Then he slipped outside with Jack.

\--- 

The night was a bit chilly without his jacket, but Jack wasn’t going to grab either of the Winchester’s coats. Dean’s borrowed clothes had enough of a weird feel to them. Denim wasn’t a pleasant material in Jack’s mind. At least, not when it was on his own body. When someone else was wearing it, the material seemed a lot more fun.

They’d gone out to the Impala—which had been parked underneath a motel streetlight thankfully. Dean was perched on the trunk, working on Jack’s coat. He was being as gentle as he could be with it. Jack leaned against the car and folded his arms over his chest to ward off some of the cold. “You’ve had a lot of practice,” Jack observed as he watched Dean.

“Yeah, well, Dad was crap at it and Sam and I had some favorite clothes, so I learned,” Dean remarked.

“Thanks. I appreciate it. I’m kinda attached to the thing.”

“I could tell.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Dean motioned at the coat. “This is in pretty awesome condition. You hang it up right, you’ve kept it clean, but your every day clothes? You forget to do your freaking laundry and what you were wearing tonight had a couple of stains before you got killed in it. Your other clothes don’t mean anything. Coat does.”

“You’re observant.”

“In this line of work, missing details can get you killed,” Dean mumbled.

After a pause, Jack said, “I was glad to see you again.” His eyes drifted over and met Dean’s. “People in our line of work don’t always grow up.”

“I must be too handsome or something. Universe won’t let me go,” Dean joked. “I should’ve been dead more than a few times myself.” 

Jack smirked and looked away again. Too much eye contact and Dean might think Jack was hitting on him. Tonight was supposed to be a simple hunting mission to take down a killer alien. Instead, he’d been in Dean’s arms. And they had been nice arms to lie in, even if he was in pain the whole time. 

Since then, Jack had seen subtle clues in Dean too. Lingering gazes. Flushes when Jack complimented him. The signs that someone was interested in him. He was a handsome guy—a lot of people flirted with him and wanted him. Dean’s seemed to go a little deeper than just attraction. He was infatuated, at least, and considering what happened the last time they’d met, Jack couldn’t blame him. He was a bit infatuated with Dean too. 

Except the people he loved kept dying. They kept putting themselves in danger and nothing he could do would ever stop them. Jack wasn’t sure if he could start that cycle yet again. Or maybe it was already to late to stop what was happening between him and Dean.

Dean’s voice broke his chain of thoughts. “You know, I always wanted to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“That last kiss. You said no at first. What changed your mind?”

Slowly, Jack turned back towards the other man. He leaned his hip against the Impala as he considered what to tell him. A simple lie could kill whatever might be happening between them.

After holding him like that, carrying him through the pain earlier, Dean deserved the truth.

“Your eyes,” Jack told him. “You went from teenager to an old man with that haunted look in your eyes.”

“So it was out of pity?” Dean asked with an edge in his voice.

“No,” Jack said quickly. “You were suddenly the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.”

Dean laughed dryly. “You know, when we went to drop you off, I almost begged you to let me go with you.”

“I almost asked you to come,” Jack said. “But you were too young.”

“Guess we missed our chance.”

Jack drawled, “Not entirely.”

Dean let out a loud sigh. “I can’t go with you now. Sam and I have got work to do.”

Jack thought back to his stack of case files. “Me too.” He shrugged and ventured, “But, you know, if it’s ever convenient, we could meet up.”

A genuine pleased smile broke out over Dean’s lips. “Yeah. I think we could.” He inspected the coat for a minute. “Here, think I got it all.” 

Jack took it, trusted Dean’s assessment, and folded it over his arm. Parts of it would still be wet, and they’d feel even colder in the autumn air. “Thanks.” He stood up, away from the Impala, and said, “You should get some sleep. I’ll come by in a couple of hours, pick up my stuff.”

“Yeah okay.”

Jack stepped away towards his own vehicle.

“Wait,” Dean said. He slid forward off the Impala, reached out and pulled Jack in for a kiss. A gentle, brief touch of their lips. “Promise me,” he whispered, “in the future, you need help, you’ll give me a call.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Jack said hesitantly.

“Jack.”

“All right,” he said and stroked Dean’s cheek. “If I need help, I’ll call. Reverse holds true for you.”

Dean nodded. They exchanged a couple of contact numbers quickly. Before he left for the night, Jack stole one more quick kiss. “I’ll see you later,” he said.

“You better. I’ve still got half your stuff.”

Jack nodded and headed over to his car. Even though the bodies had been burned, he had plenty of work left to do the Yunkashki. Samples to collect. Reports to write up for… well, just his benefit at the moment. Maybe, though, maybe there’d be someone to share them with after all.


End file.
